


The Way You Sound

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Sounding, Thiefshipping, exhibition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 16:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: Marik and Bakura meet at a party and decide to one-up the planned entertainment, but exhibition isn't the only kink Marik would like to explore with his old partner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChaosRocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosRocket/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHAOS! Once upon a time you mentioned in a convo that you'd like to read a fic where Marik convinces Bakura to try sounding. I hope you weren't being ironic or sarcastic, because this fic is four chapters long lol

Bakura didn't believe it himself. Once he'd been a thief stealing from kings and fighting for the justice of his people. Then he became a dark god trying to tear open the universe and let the full horror of oblivion swallow everyone whole.

 

And now…

 

He was no one. He scraped by with sketch commissions sold on the internet and tournament money from duels. He wasn't even sure why he was alive, but he expected it had to do with some god or other betting on how he'd fuck up again.

 

Well, he hoped they were as disappointed by the boredom as he was.

 

What was worse, Ryou had somehow talked him into going with him to what had been dubbed “a break-up stag party.” Which was cute language for them all sitting on Yugi's couch and drinking while watching porn in order to cheer up Jonouchi who'd been dumped by some woman. At least he and Ryou sat on the couch. Yugi and Jonouchi nestled in bean bags on the floor.

 

The doorbell rang and Ryou jumped up to his feet.

 

“Don't worry, Yugi, I'll get the door.”

 

Bakura rolled his eyes at his former host. He never could understand why Ryou tried so hard to be nice. He didn't notice who entered the house until someone was sitting on the other side of him. Someone tall, and accented with gold jewelry that was almost as beautiful as his hair.

 

“Marik Ishtar? Long time no see.” Bakura raised an eyebrow.

 

Marik still favored sleeveless shirts, but his arms had grown toned over the years, and he was darker, much darker. Bakura realized that in Battle City he'd seen the Marik that always wore a cape and stayed indoors plotting vengeance. The Marik sitting close to him on Yugi’s sofa was someone who spent all their free time outdoors.

 

It wasn't bad, when Bakura thought of it. Both of their lives had been ruined by the Pharaoh. Bakura didn't mind seeing Marik like this, free of the past. Maybe he even envied Marik for it.

 

“They said you were back. I had to see it for myself.”

 

“Been back a few years now.”

 

“Ah, but I've been busy. Wasn't easy getting all the tomb-keepers resettled, and some of my Ghouls.”

 

“Well, aren't you charitable?” Bakura snickered, lifting Marik's phone from his pants pocket.

 

“There aren't any nudes on my phone,” Marik said.

 

“Oh? Would you like some?” Bakura replied as he put his information into Marik's contact list.

 

“From what Ryou said when he invited me over, we're about to see professionals at work, yes?”

 

“Yes. We're watching porn. Say it like a normal person.”

 

“I've never been normal.”

 

Even as Marik said it, Bakura got a text.

 

_So what are you really doing here? Can't imagine it's to see people getting fucked in 720p_

 

Bakura grinned. He'd also noticed that Yugi’s TV was horribly outdated.

 

 _Bored? Free booze?_ He typed back. _What about you?_

 

_I find these sorts of gatherings to be interesting on an anthropological level._

 

_I see, observing the average human in their natural habitat._

 

_Something like that._

 

“Marik, do you want a drink?” Yugi glanced back at them.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Allow me.” Bakura smirked as he stood and walked towards the kitchen. “I want to make sure Marik feels welcomed. Anyone else need anything?”

 

“Thanks Bakura.” Yugi breamed. “Will you bring beer?”

 

“Mix me one of your specials!” Ryou shouted.

 

Bakura shot at them with his finger and went into the kitchen. Ryou probably already guessed his plan to try and get Marik sloppy drunk in order to see the uptight tomb-keeper relax for once, but at least Ryou wasn't stopping Bakura. He grabbed a few beers and mixed three “specials”, which were similar to a Caribou Lou only with energy drinks instead of pineapple juice.  

 

He returned, passing out drinks and winking at Marik when he gave him the last one. Marik took a distrustful sip and wrinkled his face.

 

“Set’s balls, Bakura, did you even try to mix it?”

 

“Really? I don’t think they’re that strong.” Ryou gulped instead of sipped, wincing. “Okay, maybe a little, but you really should drink it. Uh, just one though and then go to beer. Too many of these and you wake up with amnesia.”  

 

That had only happened once when a new game came out and they decided to “properly celebrate,” but Ryou was never going to let Bakura live it down apparently.

 

“Marik, I can get you a beer now if you don’t like it,” Yugi offered.

 

Marik gave him a polite “Namu” smile. “Thanks, Yugi, but I think it’s growing on me.” He took another sip. His face gave away his lie.

 

Bakura got another text.

 

_If you think you’re going to get me drunk enough to act like a fool then you’re going to be disappointed_

 

_Just giving you the real stag party experience_

 

_I’m sure_

 

_Wait until you see how awful porn is. You’ll be glad to have a drink._

 

_Really? I would have expected you to be a regular connoisseur_

 

Bakura snorted out loud at the last text. 

_I have specific tastes_

 

Marik took another drink.

 

“Let’s make a game out of this,” Jonouchi suggested.

 

“That sounds like fun!” Yugi pursed his lips in thought. “So, how about we take a drink everytime someone moans or curses.”

 

“Does that include when Bakura curses?” Ryou laughed, face already a touch flushed thanks to his drink.

 

“Sure, why not?” Yugi laughed with Ryou.

 

“Ha, ha, fuckers,” Bakura grumbled.

 

It took him a moment to realize why everyone laughed and took a drink. Bakura rolled his eyes and took his own drink.

 

“We need two more rules,” Yugi said.

 

“Drink for nice tits!” Jonouchi laughed.

 

“Drink when they touch a clit,” Bakura said.

 

At least he could follow that rule. He had no idea what constituted as “nice tits.”

 

“That’s a good one, Bakura. Okay, let’s start.” Yugi hit play.

 

The movie started with a very ugly guy in a generic pizza delivery uniform walking up to a house. Bakura groaned in dismay.

 

“Oh my fucking- this trope? Really?”

 

“That’s two drinks!” Ryou lifted up his glass and then took two big swallows. “He moaned _and_ cursed.”

 

“That was _not_ a moan,” Bakura argued.

 

“Shut up and drink.” Marik smirked as he brought his own cup to his lips.

 

“Seriously Bakura,” Jonouchi said, “It’s not suppose to win an Oscar. It’s a porn.”

 

Bakura felt his pocket vibrate and took his phone out again.

 

_I don’t see why they have a setup at all? Why not start in medias res? Isn’t the point to watch people fuck?_

 

_I guess so all the low-paid pizza delivery boys have a reason to live_

 

Marik chuckled and Bakura wondered if the drink was kicking in. His was starting to, and he was grateful because he never did develop any sort of grace for social situations, and Yugi still set his teeth on edge- as if he’d turn back into the Pharaoh at any moment and then they’d have to play a Shadow Game, and Bakura would lose and suffer both the mental agony of defeat and the physical agony of angry shadows all over again.

 

He shuddered at the thought, taking a drink for comfort.

 

_Are you okay?_

 

Bakura sighed at the text.

 

“Those boobs definitely deserve a drink!” Jonouchi announced.

 

Bakura took an automatic drink. He used the extra moment to think of a reply for Marik.

 

_I don’t know why I let Ryou talk me into these things_

 

_You don’t like porn?_

 

_I don’t like women_

 

He noticed, after his last text, that Marik shifted the slightest bit closer. Bakura’s heart sped up a little when the soft warmth of Marik’s skin brushed against his cold arm. He found that he didn't dare turn his head; instead, Bakura glanced out of his peripheral vision and noticed Marik looking smug and satisfied. Bakura was grateful when the actress on the screen moaned in anticipation because he needed a good, long drink. The pizza boy’s pants dropped, and the woman started sucking him to his full length.

 

Marik texted Bakura again.

 

_I get that the focus is supposed to be on the female, but did they have to get *such an ugly guy* for this?_

 

_Another problem with porn. They never get attractive guys. Just the ones with huge cocks._

 

_Oh come on, his cock isn’t even that big_

 

Now Bakura did look at Marik and studied his face for any hint of facetiousness. Marik only looked at him questioningly. It was the first time that the word _candid_ ever came to mind while Bakura looked at Marik. Usually he thought of words like _sly, manipulative, dangerous…_

 

_gorgeous._

 

Yes, that too, but not candid. However, Marik wasn’t trying to be ironic in some way. Bakura could see by his expression that he really didn’t think that the porn star’s cock was that large. Bakura texted again.

 

_I mean, I’ve seen bigger in other porn, but he’s much bigger than average_

 

Marik responded with-

 

_I’m not drunk enough to fall for a dumb trick like this. There’s no way you actually think his cock is big._

 

Bakura dropped his phone into his lap. Someone shouted to take a drink, Bakura wasn’t sure why because he wasn’t paying attention to the screen, but he obeyed. He almost replied out loud before remembering that they were having a text conversation.

 

_Marik … how big are you?_

 

_Bigger than that asshole on the TV_

 

Marik snorted, actually snorted, as if Bakura had insulted him. Bakura felt his cheeks heat up. Marik’s expression changed, turning thoughtful. He texted Bakura again.

 

_Why? How big are you?_

 

_About 15cm? I mean I’ve never measured…_

 

_Liar!_

 

_Why would I lie about that?_

 

_Idk?_

 

Then, in another box.

 

_To trick me somehow?_

 

Bakura frowned, swyping furiously and having to correct several typos.

 

_How would I benefit from such a stupid trick? Wtf???_

 

_Then prove it!_

 

_What? Whip out my dick right here and show you?_

 

Marik stifled a chuckle with his hand. They had to drink because the actress was rubbing herself off. Bakura chugged the rest of his. He needed it if he was going to have this argument with Marik. Marik sent another text.

 

_Bathroom_

 

He stared at the single world, unadorned even by simple punctuation but so resolute and final. And his cock stirred at the thought of Marik staring at him, although, at the same time it was intimidating because he already knew Marik was bigger than him. Still, Bakura was never one to back down from a challenge, and the word “bathroom” had been quite the challenge.

 

“I’m dry. I need another drink.” He stood up, wobbly on his feet but catching his balance quickly enough, and made his way towards the bathroom instead of the kitchen.

 

Fumbling out of his belt was harder than he thought. He was tipsy, but more than that, he was nervous. Not being the social type, Bakura hadn’t really courted many lovers. In fact, his only real experience was a few late-night, post-gaming handjobs with Ryou and that hardly counted since it was more of an old habit from their body sharing days than anything else.

 

Marik appeared, locked the door, and slammed Bakura against the wall. He yanked down Bakura’s fly, reached down his boxers, and started stroking Bakura’s cock as if he owned it. It caught Bakura off-guard. He threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, and clamped both hands over his mouth to hold back his moan.

 

“Well? Since you’re showing me yours, feel free to look at mine,” Marik said, his voice low and sultry.

 

Bakura pulled himself together enough to fumble with Marik’s belt buckle, angry that he had to unfasten another one when his had been challenging enough.

 

“You weren’t kidding.” Marik’s mouth was slack in genuine surprise. “Are you just small?”

 

“No asshole,” Bakura growled as he struggled with Marik’s pant’s button. “12 to 15 centimeters is average.”

 

“That … that can’t be right.” Marik chuckled almost as if he were embarrassed.

 

Bakura was harder than he’d probably ever been before, but Marik continued to massage his cock, thumbing the slit and keeping his fingers tight, as if to coax another centimeter out of Bakura’s length. Bakura himself was surprised when he reached down Marik’s pants and only found a small handful of flesh, but it didn’t take much to make it grow to the length of some ridiculous anime sword.

 

“Holy fuck.” Bakura laughed, using both hands to tug Marik to his full size. He was at least 20 centimeters, perhaps 21, and fat as a sumo wrestler. “You are hung like a fucking camel.”

 

Marik leaned a little closer. Bakura glanced up and noticed that even with his rich, cumin complexion, Marik was nervous.

 

“Even in my last body I wasn’t quite so large.”

 

“I didn’t know,” Marik whispered. “I honestly thought - I thought I was just normal.”

 

“Well, you did say earlier that you’ve never been normal.” Bakura giggled. He’d like to think of it as a chuckle, but he was blushing and breathless, and more drunk on the moment than the 151.

 

“It’s not funny you jackal,” Marik snapped, but his irritation seemed to motivate his hand to move faster as it toyed with Bakura’s cock.

 

“Th-that’s- _aahhh-_ going to make me come if you don’t stop.” Bakura moaned again as his own hand continued to work at Marik’s enormous shaft. He prayed to whatever gods may have brought him back to the living world that they’d let him have this delightful moment in what had been, overall, a miserable existence.

 

“Yeah?” Marik’s lips curled up in a smirk, and, blessedly, he did not stop. “You do look like you’re enjoying it.”   

 

Bakura nodded, words failing him.

 

“Mmmm, so you like this?” Marik asked in a low whisper right against the shell of Bakura’s ear.

 

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” Bakura whispered. He thought that they were going to have to take a lot of make up drinks, because he was about to list off every profanity he’d ever heard.

 

Just as Bakura’s world was rising up into a sunlit euphoria of pleasure, the door beside them shook as someone pounded on the other side.

 

“C’mon! Quit jerking off in there, some of us have to take a piss!” Jonouchi shouted through the door.

 

Marik growled, his hand coming to an agonizing stop as they both froze in place.

 

“I should have fucking made sure he drowned at the docks,” Marik growled in frustration.   

 

“I could stab him,” Bakura offered, his balls screaming at him when Marik let go of his dick.

 

“Do it.” Marik grinned.

 

Jonouchi pounded on the door again and they both gave it a hateful glare.

 

“In a minute!” Marik shouted.

 

“Hurry up! I have to pee!”

 

“Fucking piss outside!” Bakura snarled.

 

“Get a fucking hotel room!” Jonouchi shouted back.

 

Bakura managed to fasten his belt much quicker than unfastening it. He opened the door, cocked his fist back, and swung at Jonouchi’s jaw. Jonouchi ducked, uppercutting to counter, but Marik caught his wrist and stopped the blow.

 

“Didn’t you have to pee?” Marik asked while pushing Bakura out into the hallway.

 

“Don’t fuck with me, Bakura,” Jonouchi threatened, ignoring Marik.

 

“Bring it, bitch.”

 

“Come on, Bakura. He’s not worth the time.” Marik dragged Bakura back to the living room.

 

Yugi and Ryou were staring at them, and it pissed Bakura off even more.

 

“Um… you could borrow my bedroom if you need a few minutes?” Yugi offered, ever the gracious one.  

 

“No need,” Marik said in a polite, restrained voice. “We were simply doing some … international research.”

 

“Well we heard at least two moans, so drink up.” Ryou toasted them.

 

“If we’re still playing that game, I believe he cursed at least three times as well.” Marik smirked before finishing his glass.

 

Bakura thought it’d only been two, but he was too sexually frustrated to really remember, and then he realized he was out of liquor so he went into the kitchen. He made himself and Marik another strong drink and grabbed two beers knowing Ryou and Yugi would want them. He specifically did not bring three beers. He’d even thought about pissing in one of the empty bottles and seeing if he could get Jonouchi to drink it, but his dick was still hard and it would have been annoying trying to make it into the little bottle mouth while stiff, so he settled for being passive aggressive and petty.

 

“Are you seriously drinking another one?” Ryou asked when he saw the solo cups. “Remember the hangover we got last time?”  

 

“I don’t care,” Bakura said. He really didn’t at that moment.

 

“Okay, but Marik, you really should switch to beer.”

 

“Thank you for the concern, Ryou, but I think I’ll be fine.” Marik took a stubborn drink.  

 

Bakura lifted his own glass in the air and then joined Marik in a drink. Down the hall, the sound of a flushing toilet and running sink water reached them, and a moment later Jonouchi returned.

 

“I’m done.”

 

“I’m surprised you’re even potty trained,” Bakura grumbled, _bitter_ from the interruption.

 

“Say it to my face, Bakura.”

 

“I just did!”

 

“Hey! Guys!” Yugi raised his voice more than Bakura thought he could. “This is a party, remember? Everyone calm down.”

 

“I don’t like his fucking attitude,” Jonouchi complained.

 

“They’re just worked up. Let’s give them a little slack.” Yugi started giggling, hiding his face with his beer bottle. “I mean, they’re probably embarrassed, right? They got busted, after all.”

 

Marik leaned back, a king in a throne. His stare was cold enough to chill the beer and his body language was cruel and regal. Bakura had a wild urge to get on his knees and look up at those angry, lavender eyes before pulling out Marik's cock and seeing how much he could fit down his throat.

 

“Why would we be embarrassed? We were putting on a better show than what you were watching.”  

 

Ryou and Yugi both snorted in laughter. Ryou held up both hands, one holding his beer. “Okay, okay, but- imagine playing the drinking game with Bakura? We’d die! He is the _loudest_ when he’s about to come. It’d be a constant drink!”

“Fuck you, Ryou!” Bakura shouted.

 

“Drink!” Yugi cheered, taking a swig. He laughed again before adding. “Honestly, it really would be hotter than anything we could find online. I mean that as a compliment, of course.”

 

Marik looked like it was a compliment and Bakura rolled his fucking eyes in disbelief.

 

“Yes, have fun imagining,” Bakura grumbled, _bitter, bitter, bitter_. Damn bitter at the ache in his balls.

 

Marik raised an eyebrow. “I’m game.”

 

“Are you drunk?” Bakura sputtered on the drink he was trying to swallow when Marik said the words.

 

“Not enough to hinder my decision making. I just think it’d be fun unravelling you in front of an audience.”

 

Bakura felt all the blood drain from his face as he tried to swallow. Audience be damned, the thought of Marik’s hands back on his cock- with or without viewers- sounded amazing to him.

 

“Do it, Bakura, do it.” Ryou took out his cell phone. “I’m totally recording, though.”

 

Bakura had to think in the back of his head for a moment, in the part that wasn’t plastered. Was he really okay with this? Actually his pulse was rioting with excitement at the thought. He started chugging his drink, dropping the cup onto the carpet and staring only at Marik, trying to judge if he was serious, or just trying to rile up the crowd.  

 

“Wait, we need more beer. This is going to be hilarious.” Yugi jumped up and ran to the kitchen, returning with a six pack to distribute.

 

“Really? Like, we’re really going to watch them?” Jonouchi asked, also blushing, and there was something about him being bashful about the entire thing that made it even more appealing to Bakura.

 

In a way it was the perfect revenge for him interrupting them. Now he had to sit and watch them.

 

“We need another rule for the drinking game because Bakura doesn’t have breasts or a clit.” Yugi also took out his cell phone, as if it really was just another game and filming was part of it.

 

“Oh, I have a rule.” Marik swung his legs so that he was straddling Bakura. “Finish your drink if he calls out my name.”

 

“As if. You’re so fucking vain.”

 

“Curse word. Drink.” Ryou chuckled.  

 

“Everyone's really okay with this, right?” Yugi asked. “Bakura? Are you too drunk to make good decisions?”

 

“I've never made a good decision in my entire existence.”

 

“It's true,” Ryou agreed.

 

“That's a compelling argument.” Yugi turned to Jonouchi. “This is your party. We can play strip poker instead? Or even Duel Monsters?”

 

Jonouchi glared at them. Marik was already working on Bakura’s belt.

 

“I'm still pissed that he tried to punch me, but whatever. Hearing Bakura scream like a bitch will be pretty funny.”

 

“If that's a jab at my pride, you should know that I give no fucks about your opinion.” Bakura lifted up his hips as Marik stripped off his pants.

 

They probably took a drink at the profanity, but Bakura didn't notice. He tugged at the hem of Marik’s shirt, looking up in order to silently ask for permission to pull it off. He wanted to see if Marik’s chest had filled out as much as his arms, but Marik gave a slight shake of his head and Bakura dropped his hands. Only then did he remember Marik’s scars. They were so little of how he thought of Marik, that it’d been an easy thing to forget them, but he understood why Marik didn’t want to show his back to Yugi ever again.

 

Instead, Bakura grabbed the hem of his own shirt. He raised both eyebrows to ask permission again, trying to lighten the mood, and grinned when Marik grabbed Bakura’s shirt and tugged it up over his head for him. They both started giggling, and tomorrow they’d blame the alcohol, but it was the warmth of their own bodies mixing together that truly had them intoxicated. Marik leaned forward, his mouth dancing just out of reach of Bakura’s as Marik teased him by grinding in his lap. Bakura’s eyes lidded. He parted his lips, but he didn’t want to be kissed. He wanted to be teased- exactly in the way that Marik was teasing him- lips almost touching, but never together, breath tickling his lips, but nothing else.

 

“Marik,” Bakura exhaled the name like a spell, lost to anything but the sight of him.

 

“Bakura!” Everyone else in the room screamed at once, jerking Bakura out of his reverie.

 

“Dude, you didn’t even make it past the foreplay!” Jonouchi started chugging his beer.

 

“Please, Bakura, have a little restraint. I have to open the Game Shop tomorrow.” Yugi shook his head before drinking his own beer.

 

“I don’t give a fucking fuckity fuck about any of you jerks, so take three more sips, babes.” Bakura’s gaze shot back to Marik who looked like a cat with a live mouse in its claws.

 

 _He_ was enjoying every second of their situation- being the center of attention, making Bakura forget that they were the center of attention, and Bakura’s aggression towards their audience. Marik grabbed Bakura’s cock just as he had in the bathroom, possessing Bakura’s flesh without the use of the Rod or Shadow Magic. Bakura felt his cheeks flare up, and his mouth hung open so he could pant and moan without restraint.

 

They were going to need a lot more beer, because Bakura had no intentions of holding back for their sake. Every flick of Marik’s wrist made Bakura feel like his soul was being raptured, and his nails punctured the fabric of the sofa as if he were trying to claw the sofa to death. And really? Fuck it. Fuck Yugi’s couch. The Pharaoh had once sat on that fucking sofa, and now Bakura was fucking on that sofa, and it was the closest to payback he was ever going to get for the outright _tragedies_ that he endured, so fuck it. Bakura dug his nails harder into the couch cushion and called out Marik’s name on purpose. He might be the one getting fucked at that moment, but everyone else was going to be screwed the next morning when they woke up with the most epic hangovers of their lives.

 

Marik nuzzled the side of Bakura’s head, pressing his mouth against Bakura’s hair and near his ear.

 

“Yeah, that’s right. Scream it again.”

 

“Marik, I’m going to fucking come!” Bakura wrapped his arms around Marik’s neck and pressed their foreheads together and he started hitching upward in time with Marik’s strokes.

 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Marik! Fuck!” Bakura screamed and then half-squealed as the release he’d needed so badly in the bathroom rushed up and poured out, and he was glad his clothes were somewhere on the floor because his stomach was a mess.

 

Marik was giggling again, his face flushed and his eyes dilated. He brought his hand up to Bakura’s mouth and Bakura licked the splash of semen off of Marik’s knuckles. Bakura could half-hear the others whining about not being able to keep up with their drinking, but Bakura’s ears were ringing from his orgasm and the others were flies buzzing behind a screen door. Marik was the only one in the room, and Bakura wanted to show him that. He bucked one last time to let Marik know that he wanted up and then dropped down to his knees.

 

Marik raised a single eyebrow as if to ask Bakura if he really wanted to do what they both knew he was about to do. Bakura answered with a smirk and a lick of his lips, and Marik dropped his own pants around his ankles. There was chatter on the sidelines, probably about Marik’s length and girth, but Bakura paid it no mind. He was too entertained by Marik’s reaction to it all. Marik had the look of someone trying very hard to act nonchalant but failing despite all their efforts. Bakura daresay that Marik looked… bashful, and perhaps it was the rum talking, but Bakura thought it was a cute look on Marik’s happy, tipsy face. It made sense that Marik looked happy with a body part _other than his back_ being the highlight for once, positive attention for something that was _him_ instead of the wounds that he never wanted.

 

Bakura licked up Marik’s shaft and gave Marik’s head a playful kiss. Marik's lavender eyes grew unfocused and the well-hidden-but-still-visible blush on his cheeks darkened. Bakura grinned. His own face was a complete wreck of crimson that was only just starting to fade to peony.

 

He dabbed his tongue out again, holding Marik's cock at its base. After enough licks to lube Marik's shaft, Bakura wetted his lips, rose higher on his knees, sealed his mouth around Marik's girth, and plunged down. All the way down. Until he felt the back of his throat open up. What he couldn't swallow he gripped with his hand. Again, there were excited voices all around him, but Bakura was too busy keeping his throat relaxed, breathing, and sliding his lips up and down to pay any attention. The only feedback that mattered to him was Marik's.

 

Marik pursed his lips. It gave him a pouty, concentrated look. His eyes were also closed and his brow wrinkled in pleasure. He made little _oooo_ and _mmmm_ sounds that reminded Bakura of a dove cooing. Bakura squeezed Marik's thigh with his free hand, and did his best to moan to show Marik that he was enjoying himself as well.

 

The more Bakura bobbed the more his mouth watered until Marik was slick and easy to glide across. Bakura sped up, almost doing one handed pushups in order to help lift his head up and down enough.

 

“Bakura,” Marik whispered, fisting white hair between his fingers and tilting his head back at a slight angle.

 

Bakura felt the vein in Marik's cock pulsing, but he'd whispered Bakura's name in such a soft, quiet voice that Bakura was still surprised when Marik came. Bakura held his breath so he didn't sputter. There was no way he was going to spit with other people watching; he drank up every drop like cream.

 

Afterward Bakura pulled back and wiped the spit off of his chin before he looked back up at Marik. At the same time, Marik looked down at Bakura. Bakura smirked. Had Marik's hair been anymore trashed, Bakura might have thought his alter ego was back.

 

“You're a mess,” Bakura said.

 

“Look in a mirror,” Marik answered.

 

He heard a soft thump to his right and Bakura looked over. Ryou still sat on the edge of the couch and he'd dropped his phone. His old host’s own face was scarlet and his mouth agape. Bakura blinked and looked around, remembering that there were other people in the room. They all looked the same.

 

“What?” Bakura asked the question like a challenge, daring them to give a sarcastic answer.

 

“N-nothing,” Yugi murmured.

 

Bakura glared at them. He didn't quite understand the stares. They couldn't be _that_ drunk? He got up, found Kleenex to clean his stomach, and slipped into his pants.

 

“Well, I see you're all speechless.” Marik, his pants back on and hair already finger-combed back into place, leaned back and stretched. “So now that we've shown you how it's done, I suppose you can turn off that drivel on the television screen and we can pick a new game to play.”

 

Then it clicked in Bakura's head, why everyone had gone stupid. He laughed his way to the kitchen, opening the back door and letting the cool evening air bathe his skin. Bakura watched the stars, something he hadn't done in thousands of years. He wondered, after all this time, if maybe his people were up there, their souls in the Duat at last.

 

“Hey, you okay?”

 

Bakura turned and saw Marik. He nodded his head and, as much as he tried to smirk, succumbed to the smile that played out on his face instead.

 

“I was roasting after all that. I'm trying to cool off before I have to put my shirt back on.”

 

“Oh trust me, no one will mind if you leave it off.” Marik stood beside Bakura, looking up at the same stars.

 

Bakura snorted and bumped his hip against Marik's hip. Marik turned, hooking his thumbs into Bakura's belt loops and pulling them together until they were face to face with Bakura looking up slightly.

 

“That was fun.”

 

Bakura chuckled. “Yeah, kinda.”

 

“But, fun as it was, I wouldn't mind getting my hands on you alone some time.”

 

Bakura leaned closer, smirking. “Pick a day.”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Bakura woke up in his own bed the next morning with fuzzy memories of a cab ride home. They’d played Duel Monsters until 4 a.m. and the best part about Drunk Yugi was that he tended to lose card games.

 

Speaking of Yugi, Bakura grabbed his cell phone and sent the spiky-haired bastard a text.

 

_Oi, give me a copy of that video you took_

 

A moment later his phone chimed in response.

 

_No, I’m not talking to you_

 

_I have the worst headache in my life because of you_

 

_And forget hungover. I think I’m still drunk! It’s 9 am and I’m still drunk!_

 

Bakura laughed at the text.

 

_I don’t see how that’s my fault_

 

Yugi’s reply only took a moment.

 

_You said Marik’s name way too many times!_

 

_Did I make the name rule? no_

 

_Still, you could have shown some self-control_

 

_Have I ever done that? EVER??_

 

The next text from Yugi took several minutes to arrive, and it came with a video attachment.

 

_My head hurts too much to argue. Ryou’s going to splice the two videos together, but here’s my half of the raw footage._

 

Feeling victorious, Bakura texted Ryou next.

 

_I want to see the video_

 

_Good morning, Bakura! How are you feeling? I heard you have a date with Marik. Can I be your best man when you get married? You two are precious!_

 

_Of course, I’ll send you both the original video and the edited version as soon as I get home from work._

 

“Damn, Ryou, I don’t need a novel,” Bakura muttered before texting back.

 

_You’re in a much better mood than Yugi._

 

_Tee-hee, everyone was so drunk last night that no one noticed that the last few beers I chugged were empty bottles. I feel pretty good this morning! Last night was fun- I still can’t believe you did that, though. I’d be too camera shy._

 

_The secret is not giving half a fuck_

 

_Whatever, you act so tough, but you don’t fool me. You were giving Marik doe-eyes during that entire BJ._

 

_Are you projecting your bothersome human emotions on me again?’_

 

_The camera doesn’t lie. Anyway, my lunch break is over. I’ll text you later._

 

Bakura rolled his eyes, looking at Yugi’s half of the video. It was interesting seeing everything from an outside view, and maybe he _had_ been staring at Marik- but it’d only been to see his O-face, which Yugi had gotten a nice shot of. The only problem with watching everything all over again was that, before it was even over, Bakura found himself with cock in hand in a desperate attempt to re-live the memories even as he watched them on his phone.

 

Afterwards he fell back asleep, and by the time he woke up, Ryou had already sent him the edited version, a video he watched several times before Marik came over to his place the next Friday.

 

When he opened the door that Friday night he took a moment to take in the sight of Marik. He wore his usual jewelry and had the familiar Kohl marking of the Ishtar Clan, but his golden hair was pulled back away from his face and exposed his features.

 

“Going to let me in?”

 

Bakura stepped back and resisted the urge to reach out towards Marik’s hair. Marik took off his jacket and tossed it at Bakura. Beneath, he wore a black, sleeveless shirt with gold fixings that matched his Kohl and accessories. Bakura found himself drawn to the darker look, especially when paired with his older, more toned form. Bakura didn’t have a coat closet, so he laid the jacket on the back of a chair so that it didn’t wrinkle.

 

“Um, so…”

 

“So…?” Marik echoed.

 

“Did you eat?”

 

“Yeah, I didn’t trust you to have anything I liked here.”

 

“Probably not,” Bakura admitted. They hadn’t discussed dinner, just Marik coming over. “Then did you want to watch a movie? Or … I have a PlayStation, and cards-”

 

“I want to suck your cock.” Marik said without fanfare or preamble. “I’ve watched that video Ryou sent at least a dozen times, and I can’t get you out of my head, and-” Marik closed his eyes and shook his head. “A movie sounds great, just, later. Right now I can’t think, so let’s get the sexual tension part of the date out of the way because you have no idea how much this is pissing me off.”

 

Bakura stood frozen. He knew how Marik felt. He’d been struggling with the same problem all week long, but he never imagined Marik (Marik of all people) just throwing all the cards on the table at the very beginning of the night. Not that he’d complain; his cock was already hard just thinking about Marik’s mouth around it.

 

Bakura stepped forward, realized he was about to kiss Marik, and instead went for the skin right below Marik’s golden choker. He clung to Marik’s shoulders as he dragged his lips across cumin-colored flesh. Marik sighed and tilted his head to give Bakura a better angle. Marik’s nails sank into the skin above Bakura’s hips, and they both pressed their lower bodies together at the same moment.

 

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” Bakura spoke in a low, seductive growl, leading the way.

 

He stripped himself bare and yanked Marik's pants to the floor. He didn’t try to remove Marik’s shirt, but as he lay Marik down on the bed, he did lift it up enough to kiss up Marik’s flat and sculpted stomach. Bakura wondered why he was hovering over Marik and kissing him from head to toe when Marik had been the one offering to suck Bakura’s cock, but he couldn’t stop himself. Marik’s body was too perfect not to kiss. Not simply because it was toned and dark, but because _it belonged to Marik._

 

Bakura waited until he couldn’t take it anymore and then rolled onto his back. Marik pounced on him, giving his cock a few sloppy licks before lapping at his balls. Bakura fisted the sheets and moaned, mesmerized by the warmth and wetness of Marik’s mouth.

 

“Here.” Marik pushed himself up to his knees and grabbed a pillow. “You took a shower, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Bakura answered. He’d taken a thorough one, knowing they’d fool around in some way that night.

 

“Okay. Good.”

 

He slid it below Bakura’s ass, and Bakura spread his legs so Marik could go back to sucking on his balls. Marik did just that and Bakura bit his lower lip to keep from calling out Marik’s name- he didn’t have booze as an excuse this time. Then Marik dropped lower and flicked his tongue across Bakura’s entrance. Bakura called out in a mixture of surprise and pleasure, but sat up and closed his legs together.

 

“Nothing near my asshole,” Bakura snapped.

 

“Relax, it’s just a rimjob.”

 

“No, no, no. First it’s a rimjob, then it’s just a finger or two, then 'I swear just the tip,’ and the next thing I know, I’m taking it in the ass.”

 

“That … is very specific, Bakura.” Marik glared at him. “I just wanted to make you feel as good as you made me feel last weekend.”

 

When Marik said it like _that_ it sounded nice, but he was a little leery of Marik being nice.

 

“Can’t you just suck my cock, then? I didn’t do anything extra last week.”

 

“Yeah, but…” Marik scratched his arm, pouting. “Yugi said you’d like this even more.”

 

“Yugi! You asked the full time King of Games and part time professional panda bear for sex advice? Not to mention the whole former enemy thing makes that a little weird.”

 

“Well he has more experience than us!” Marik clenched his jaw a moment before adding, “I’ve never minded using my enemies to achieve my goals. Even if that means getting a few tips from Yugi about blow jobs.”

 

“W-what did he say?” Bakura asked, angry that he was asking, angry that he was curious, and angry that his cheeks felt hot.

 

Marik crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t see why I should tell you. You don’t want anything near your asshole so lay down and I’ll just give you a regular, _boring_ , blow job.”

 

“You didn’t look bored last week!”

 

“Urgh, I don’t know why I thought I should make this special- or why I wanted you so badly to begin with. You’re insufferable.”

 

“And you’re-you’re!”

 

Bakura was just screaming to scream. He was angry, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because he’d ruined the mood when all he _really_ wanted to do was lavish attention back at Marik.

 

“Yes? I’m what?” Marik leaned forward, eyes cool and face controlled.  

 

Bakura stared at him for three entire seconds and then slid his fingers behind Marik head and kissed him. Then he remembered where Marik’s mouth had been a moment before and Bakura’s face burned all over again. He pulled away and lay back against the mattress with his hips above the pillow that Marik had placed.

 

“Whatever. I don’t care what you do. You want to degrade yourself by sucking on my asshole, then knock yourself out.”

 

“I don’t find it degrading.” Marik laughed. “If what I heard is right, this will be so good you’ll end up in tears by the end, and that sort of power over you is worth a few taboo licks.”

 

“Just get it over with.” Bakura clenched his hands into fists.

 

Now he was turned on _and_ nervous. Tears of joy sounded suspicious and fake- especially when sex was involved. There was no way anything physical could invoke that sort of emotional response.

 

But Marik was kissing up Bakura’s slender, bone-white thighs, and Bakura couldn’t worry about it any longer. Marik actually took Bakura’s cock into his mouth and sucked until his erection was tall and swollen once again. Then he dropped back down to Bakura’s ass and licked all the way up his crack.

 

Bakura closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. Each lick was a little better than the last and his entire body was starting to tingle. Marik moaned, lips pressed against Bakura’s flesh so that the vibrations shimmied up his body, and Bakura curled his feet, struggling to keep his composure.

 

Marik jabbed his tongue in and out of Bakura’s hole while teasing the base of his shaft. Bakura couldn’t take it any longer and groaned, low and throaty. Marik rewarded him with deep, circling swivels of his tongue.

 

“Oh gods,” Bakura sighed out the words.

Marik hummed, as if in agreement. He shifted a little, letting his erection brush against Bakura’s leg to let Bakura know that giving the rimjob was turning him on as well. Marik fluttered his tongue and Bakura’s hips jerked on their own.

 

“ _Oh gods!_ Marik!”

 

There was no one there to chug a beer, but Marik seemed no less pleased. He rose up on his knees, reaching over the edge of the bed and fishing for his pants. Marik pulled a miniature bottle out from his pocket and tossed it beside Bakura before dropping the pants back onto the floor.

 

Bakura held his breath, realizing the bottle was lubrication. He felt dizzy.

 

“Bakura,” Marik said his name as he had the other night, soft as down and just above a whisper.

 

“Hmm?” Bakura asked, not trusting his voice with words.

 

His cock was twitching, yearning for Marik’s mouth. His gut was clenching, unsure of what Marik’s fingers would feel like inside him. His heart was stampeding because part of him was dying to find out. And his breath was a painful, tight ball in his chest because it was all too overwhelming for him to process.

 

“Watch me,” Marik said. He crossed his arms, grabbing the hem of his shirt and slipping it up over his head.

 

“You don’t have to do that.” Bakura shook his head, and he meant it even if his eyes dilated as they focused on Marik’s perfect physique.

 

“It’s okay, if it’s you.” Marik toyed with his shirt. “But not Yugi.”

 

“Yeah.” Bakura sat up again, kissing Marik’s stomach and tracing his tongue up the V of Marik’s adonis belt.

 

“Lay down.” Marik pushed him back to the mattress. “Besides, I figure this way … we’re both vulnerable this way.”

 

Bakura’s heart skipped as he looked at Marik’s intense stare. He was still nervous, but the fact that Marik had leveled the playing field for him ... he’d never quite appreciated anything so much in his entire existence. And that Marik trusted him enough to play fair instead of trying to maintain the upper hand …

 

Marik covered his fingers, sticking one up Bakura’s ass and then another.

 

“How’s that feel?”

 

“Fine,” Bakura answered. It didn’t hurt, but he wasn’t impressed either.

 

“Okay, he said… I should hook my fingers… what about this?”

 

“ _Ah! Ah! Ahh!”_ Bakura exhaled with high, sharp breaths.

 

He felt like Marik was stabbing his nerves directly. It almost ached, in the way a full bladder held too long aches, but instead of _pain_ it was… it was…

 

Marik swallowed Bakura’s entire cock. He wrapped his lips around Bakura’s base and pulled up while lapping his tongue against Bakura’s taut skin. Between the jolts shooting through his nerves, and the heat of Marik’s mouth, Bakura lost his fucking mind.

 

“Marik! Marik, I can’t! I can’t take it! It’s too good!” Bakura smothered himself with his other pillow so he could mute his own screams.

 

But Marik showed no mercy. He sucked, and licked, and pressed his fingers _just right_ into Bakura’s ass, and all Bakura could do was press his heels into the bedsheets and curse into his pillow. When the pleasure started to climb, Bakura bit into his pillow until his jaw hurt. Everything happened at once. There was a swelling feeling in his chest, as if light had broken into a place that had been part of the Ring for far too long even after the Ring was gone, and at the same time he came so hard that his head felt squeezed by monstrous, invisible hands, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

 

Marik swallowed when Bakura came. He chuckled afterward and kissed up Bakura’s stomach and chest until he reached Bakura’s face. He grabbed the pillow and forced it away from Bakura’s hold. Bakura tried to keep it pressed against his face, but Marik stayed persistent.

 

“I’m not...I’m not,” Bakura muttered, hiding his eyes with closed fists.

 

Marik wrapped his fingers around Bakura’s fists and lowered Bakura’s hands away from his face.

 

“Did I do it right? Or wrong? I can’t tell if you’re pissed about being happy or if I hurt you. Bakura? Tell me.”

 

Bakura was trying to tell him, but couldn’t speak. He gasped for a breath, shaking from sheer experience. He grabbed Marik and pulled their chests together. He needed to feel Marik’s entire body against his own at that moment.

 

“I’m good.” Bakura swallowed, catching his breath.

 

Marik sighed in relief. “I thought maybe I hurt you. Your heart’s beating so fast that it scared me.”

 

“It scares me, too. I haven't had a heart in thousands of years.”

 

“But you're okay?”

 

“I'm…amazing. I feel amazing.”

 

“That's what I was aiming for.” Marik grinned, but as he stared at Bakura's face, Marik's eyes grew hazy. “I'm so turned on right now I feel like my dick’s about to burst at the seams. Can I? Um?”

 

Bakura reached down and wrapped his fingers around Marik’s cock. Marik sighed, eyes fluttering shut. He hitched into Bakura’s closed fist. His face looked pleasant, serene. It was nice to look at, but it was also obvious that Marik was nowhere near the same level of ecstasy that Bakura had felt.

 

Bakura reached for the bottle beside him. He slicked gel across his hand and smothered Marik's cock. The slicker touch caused little noises to escape Marik's mouth, but it still wasn't enough. Bakura wanted to give him _more_ \- as much as he’d gotten- and there was only thing he could think to do.

 

Bakura braced his extra hand on Marik's back, wrapped his legs around Marik's waist, and then guided Marik inside him. Marik gave a sharp cry and dropped to his forearms. Bakura panted as he adjusted to the filling, burning, strange feeling of Marik being stuffed inside him. They stared at each other a moment. Marik eased back and gave a tentative thrust that forced them both to grunt. A second thrust caused a squeak to fly from Marik’s mouth that was so unbefitting of the former Ghoul-leader that Bakura would have teased him for it had he enough breath in his lungs.

 

“G-Gods,” Marik moaned, his brow creased and his mouth hung open so he could gasp with another experimental thrust. “Gods, Bakura. You’re... so...tight. You’re so- _ahhh_ \- good!”

 

Marik’s words, and the weird pressure in his gut, and Marik’s weight pressed against Bakura, was like casting Monster Reborn on his cock. Marik’s rhythm gradually built to a steady rocking. Each thrust still felt tentative, as if Marik were afraid to really move, but the more he pushed in, the louder Bakura’s puffs of breath became.

 

“Oh gods,” Marik moaned again. “Ba-kura. Fuck! Wh-what does it- feel like?”

 

“ _Nggh_ !” Bakura huffed out of his nose. “ _Ahh!_ L-Like, I-I’m, I- faster, Marik! Faster!”

 

That was a order and not a description, but it was the only thing Bakura could say. The apex of every thrust made Bakura shudder. His fingers worked against Marik’s scars, but it had nothing to do with them. Bakura needed something to do with his hands and groping at Marik was his first instinct.  

 

Marik didn’t argue. He pushed himself up, adjusted his angle, and moved faster.

 

“Bakura! Gods! You’re so good!”

 

Bakura’s hands slid down to Marik’s ass and he started pushing him in as far as he could go, moaning instead of responding to Marik’s praise. They continued to call out, as if competing on who could sound like they needed it more.

 

“Pull my hair!” Bakura screamed, out of nowhere. He had no idea _what_ made him even think of it, but he screamed it out all the same.

 

And Marik was quick to respond, fisting his left hand into Bakura’s hurricane of white hair and tugging until Bakura screamed in pleasure.

 

“Bite my neck!”

 

Marik had to settle back onto his forearms in order to give Bakura’s throat three fierce bites. Bakura called out for each one. Pain was usually something he took in stride, but never requested, but the bites weren’t painful- they were jolting- like Marik’s fingers had been against his prostate, like Marik’s cock was inside him at that moment.

 

“Bakura, I’m getting close.” Marik’s face was clearly flushed in the bedroom light, darker complexion be damned, and his eyes were so dazed and unfocused that he could have passed for one of his own Ghouls.

 

“Touch me.” Bakura grinned, and purred, and kissed Marik’s chest.

 

Marik let go of Bakura’s hair so he could grab his cock instead. He slowed down his thrusts as he concentrated on tugging Bakura’s cock. A high pitched, embarrassing whine escaped Bakura’s throat. They were both gleaming with sweat, their hair plagued with stray wisps, and their faces burnt-red. They looked like refugees from their own love-making, as if both were barely surviving it.  Bakura threw his head back and moaned until the repetitiveness of it made the sounds seem as if they weren’t even real.

 

“Marik!”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Marik!”

 

“Bakura!”

 

“Make me come!”

 

Marik shoved in as far as he could and held a moment, putting all his effort into stroking Bakura until Bakura spasmed and leaked over Marik’s clenched fingers.

 

“Fuck,” Bakura gasped. “Fuck, fu- Marik, go hard.”

 

Marik hummed, pulling out, splashing more lube onto his cock, and slamming back in.

 

“Harder!”

 

He grabbed Bakura’s legs and rested Bakura’s ankles on top of his copper shoulders. Marik’s thrusts were savage and deep. With Bakura’s legs in the air and Marik thrusting downward, his cock struck Bakura’s prostate and he screamed at the intense sensation despite being spent.

 

“Yes! There! Holy fuck! Marik! Come!”

 

Marik’s nails ran up Bakura’s thighs towards his knees as he picked up his pace once again. The Kohl around his eyes was smeared beyond recognition, his hair stuck to his temples. There was nothing dignified about the way he twisted his face as his orgasm approached- although Bakura thought the expression was erotic as fuck.

 

Marik screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And Bakura hissed as Marik’s last few thrusts became a little too much. But then the warmth of Marik’s orgasm filled Bakura and his thrusts grew slick and easy and he wound down.

 

Marik started laughing, and Bakura watched him through his own sleepy, hazy gaze.

 

“Holy gods!” Marik laughed against Bakura’s gaunt, white chest. “My back is going to hurt tomorrow, but I don’t even care.”

 

“My asshole is going to hurt tomorrow, but I don’t care either.” Bakura winced. “I told you this was going to end with me taking it in the ass.”

 

“But I didn’t even-”

 

“I’m not _blaming_ you,” Bakura argued before Marik could even finish his sentence. “I’m just saying that I called it.”

 

“It’s because you can never go halfway,” Marik lectured him. “You always plunge into everything way over your head.”

 

“Oh, you mean like when I partner up with someone to defeat a common enemy and the next thing I know I’m helping him fight his alter ego in a Shadow Game and having my soul seared away by a pissed-off god?”

 

“Yeah, exactly like that.”

 

“Tch.”

 

“I think I’m falling asleep.” Marik sighed, his weight settling a little heavier against Bakura’s chest.

 

“Good, I don’t have to listen to you bitch if you’re sleeping.”

 

Marik muttered something, but neither of them knew what. They were too busy falling asleep in each other’s arms.

 

Bakura woke up feeling like an entire day had passed, but it was only a little past 1 a.m. Bakura groaned because he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

 

His stirring woke Marik, who whimpered upon waking.

 

“You okay?” Bakura asked, something about Marik’s tone bothered Bakura.

 

“Dammit. It feels like my scars are on fire,” Marik muttered, trying to lift himself up and struggling.

 

Bakura helped Marik to a sitting position, feeling like an asshole when Marik whimpered again because of the movement.

 

“What can I do?”

 

“Do?” Marik snorted, anger tinging his voice, although Bakura knew it wasn’t directed at him. “Nothing.”

 

Bakura frowned. He never accepted _nothing_ as an option.

 

“Would a shower help?”

 

“Maybe? I don’t know. I’ve never done anything this stupid before.”

 

Bakura’s stomach sank. He’d had no idea that simply having sex would put so much strain on Marik’s scars. He wrapped Marik’s arm over his shoulder and guided him to the bathroom, ignoring his own soreness and pains and focusing on Marik.

 

“Okay. Thanks. I’m good.”

 

“I could wash your back.” Bakura forced his typical, cock-sure grin onto his face, although his stomach still felt knotted.

 

“Bakura, stop. I know you mean well, but I’ve been like this since I was ten and can take care of myself.”

 

“How do you know showers aren’t my kink?” Bakura frowned.

 

“Bitch, your kink is vengence. Get the fuck out of the bathroom and let me take a shower.”

 

Bakura scowled and stormed out of the bathroom. He _hated_ feeling useless. He _hated_ having to stand on the side while someone he cared about suffered- and _dammit he cared about Marik despite his best attempts not to._ It was too much like standing by and watching his village burn, and he _couldn’t_ . He _couldn’t_ deal with that. Bakura rushed into his wrinkled clothes, grabbed his jacket, and took off until he found the nearest pharmacy.

 

He tore through the lotions and creams, searching for something that would sooth scars.  He settled on a bottle of lavender oil. Bakura was so distraught by the time he found it, that he went to the cashier and paid for the bottle without considering that it’d be easier and quicker to just lift it. He marched back to his apartment, knowing he’d taken too long and that Marik would be looking for him.

 

Bakura opened the door and Marik stood in the living room with a towel wrapped around his waist and an irritated look on his face.

 

“Where the fuck did you go? You could have said bye.”

 

Bakura pulled the bottle out of his pocket, sloshing the oil inside as he displayed it.

 

“...okay?”

 

“It’s lavender. It’s-” Bakura flicked his eyes away, “-supposed to help with scars. It’s probably bullcrap, but-”

 

“Bakura.” Marik walked up to him and plucked a kiss from Bakura’s bottom lip.

 

The kiss surprised him and Bakura took a wide step backwards.

 

“I appreciate it.”

 

“I’m sure you’ve tried everything by now.”

 

“Not really.” Marik looked sheepish. “It wasn’t allowed when I was a child, and by the time I left the tomb… I just never thought to try anything. The pain was too commonplace to think about treating it.”

 

Bakura’s lips twitched upward. “Go lay back on the bed.”

 

Marik nodded and went back to the bedroom. Bakura followed him and watched him lay down on his stomach. Straddling Marik, Bakura fumbled with the foil seal on the bottle before pouring a generous amount into his hand and then coating Marik’s back.

 

“It smells good,” Marik said.

 

Bakura grunted to acknowledge the statement, but he focused on covering every centimeter of Marik’s back until the skin and scars both gleamed. He felt Marik sigh and sink a little easier against the mattress, so Bakura experimented with light, gentle circles where Ra and Obelisk sat below Marik’s shoulder blades.

 

“ _Mmmmm…_ ”

 

Marik’s happy moan encouraged Bakura. He glided his hands up and down Marik’s spine, and dug his palms into Marik’s shoulders, and kneaded his fingers against the now-useless prophecy that Marik was forced to keep with him although the Pharaoh was gone from the world.

 

“I thought nothing could feel better than being inside you.” Marik fisted the sheet over his head. “But this is pretty competitive.”

 

Bakura’s hands tickled from the oil, and he hoped Marik could feel the same cool, pleasant sensation on his skin despite the scars. Marik’s delighted moans settled into sighs, and then deep, content breaths. Bakura stayed focused on massaging his skin, adding fresh oil when the last layer absorbed into Marik’s skin, and then massaging again. It wasn’t until several minutes passed without Marik making any sounds that Bakura realized he’d fallen back asleep.

 

Bakura stole the opportunity to lean close and kiss the back of Marik’s head. He gave the gold strands a few loving pets before he snuck off to the bathroom for his own shower. When he was clean and dry, he checked back on Marik and was satisfied when Marik was still deep in sleep. He lay on the bed beside him, curled close to Marik’s body heat, and joined him.


	3. Chapter 3

Marik threw his head back and wailed in sheer euphoria. He was on hands and knees on his bed, back glistening with lavender oil. Behind him, Bakura had one hand braced against Marik’s hip and three fingers working in and out of Marik’s asshole. Marik stroked himself.  Bakura wished he was sucking Marik off but- although the oil helped a lot, Bakura had even done some research and added tea tree oil to the mix- Marik prefered his back to open air instead of the silk sheets below them.

 

Marik bucked back, and Bakura pressed a little harder into the spongy bump of nerves inside Marik’s body. Marik’s cries were high-pitched _eee-eee-eeeee’s_ that ended with a curse and a hard shudder before he curled in on himself.

 

Bakura used his left forearm to smear the sweat off of his forehead. He couldn’t help the huge grin he wore; watching Marik in ecstasy always seemed to put the same, stupid, joyful look on Bakura’s face.

 

Marik turned on his side so he could look up at Bakura.

 

“Give me a moment to catch my breath.”

 

“No,” Bakura teased, laying beside Marik so that they were eye-level. “Pleasure me now.”

 

Marik laughed, catching the joke for what it was. He pulled Bakura closer to his chest and grabbed his cock, holding it just hard enough to make Bakura grunt and want more.

 

“Pleasure you?”

 

Bakura nodded.

 

“Right now?”

 

Bakura exhaled, eyes lidding.

 

“Want me to make you feel good?” Marik flicked his wrist, just enough to drive Bakura crazy.

 

“Y-yes.”  

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“Yeah?” Bakura wrinkled his brow. Marik never asked anything at random, so he was up to something.

 

“I want to try something. I think you’ll like it.” Marik’s hand disappeared from Bakura’s cock as he scrambled off of the bed.

 

He returned with an ornate box. He opened it and Bakura peered inside. Seven thin metal rods sat on a bed of plum-colored velvet. They went from thin to fat, each with a rounded tip, and something about the surgical precision of them made Bakura shiver.  

 

“What are those?”

 

“Sounds.” Marik smirked.

 

“Do they make noise?”

 

“No.” Marik laughed. “They go in your urethra.”

 

“They don’t go in my urethra!” Bakura shouted, unable to maintain composure at the thought of sticking something up his dick-hole.

 

“I was speaking generally.” Marik rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to try it. I just thought you might like it.”

 

“Why do you even _own_ those?”

 

“I use them when I’m alone.” Marik gave Bakura a coy smile, toying with the ends of his hair.

 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Bakura curled into a ball, laying back onto his side. “Why _would_ you?”

 

“They’re rods, Bakura.” Marik shrugged. “At first it was just funny, but I got into it. I’m up to the thickest sound now.”

 

“No way.” Bakura groaned, thinking about how thick the last wand had been.

 

“I already told you that you don’t have to try it.” Marik snapped the box shut. “It was only an offer.”

 

“Then why do I feel like the conversation has been postponed rather than ended?” Bakura narrowed his gaze.

 

He knew Marik too well not to suspect him of planning something. He'd given up on the issue far too easily.

 

“We can worry about that later.” Marik grinned as he crawled back onto the bed. “For now, I believe you wanted to be pleasured.”

 

Marik pushed Bakura onto his back and spread his pale legs. Bakura's breath hitched. He'd lost his erection at the sight of the stainless steel rods, but Marik's ravenous kisses to Bakura's inner thighs provided a quick fix to the problem.

 

Marik worked his way up from Bakura's thighs, to his balls, to his cock. He swirled his tongue around Bakura's tip, toyed with the slit, lapped beneath the hood, and then wrapped his lips around Bakura's shaft. Bakura whispered something sweet, forgetting it as soon as the words left his mouth.

 

Marik continued to suck until Bakura hovered on the brink and then he jerked lower and stuffed his tongue up Bakura's asshole. Bakura writhed and cursed as Marik fluttered his tongue. Another minute and Marik went back to the blow job. He alternated until the third time, when he had his lips around Bakura's cock and then Bakura grabbed Marik's head, and guided him lower, and bucked into Marik's mouth, and came until his voice gave out and he melted into the silk sheets.

 

“Well?” Marik licked his lips clean and wiped his chin with his fingers, looking as satisfied as Bakura felt. “Was that pleasurable enough?”

 

“Damn you,” Bakura cursed, face half smashed against his pillow.

 

“For what, exactly?”

 

“For making me feel like-” Bakura's face twisted in pain, not physical but emotional. “Like my life is good.”

 

Marik's gaze softened. His usual air of superiority evaporated and exposed Marik's beautiful features and a real smile.

 

“I think I'm falling in love with you.” He lay on his side and combed Bakura's spikes with his fingers. “I'm not supposed to say that, right? We're just supposed to be old partners in crime, or fuck buddies, or whatever the hell everyone says we are behind our backs. But when I saw you, two weeks ago standing in your living room, looking more like a deranged spirit than you ever did in the Ring, and you had that bottle of oil in your hands...” Marik's smile widened at the memory. “Everyone always wants to stare and pity me, or try to convince me that I should like them because they're pretty to look at- you're the only one that ever thought to _do_ something.”

 

Bakura grunted, acknowledging Marik’s words. Marik shook his head.

 

“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything back? Not even call me an asshole and tell me I’m full of nonsense?”

 

Bakura shook his head. He wanted to say something- although whether he wanted to insult Marik or say he very well might have loved Marik back- was a mystery even to Bakura. In either case, Bakura’s tongue was like a frozen up air conditioner unit and he couldn’t seem to thaw it enough to say anything.

 

He thought Marik would get pissed off and start arguing with him, but Marik only laughed to himself and poked the center of Bakura’s forehead.

 

“Of course not. You wouldn’t say anything, you know. You’ll just do something later and show me instead of saying anything.”  

 

Marik pulled Bakura closer to his chest and they fell asleep on their sides, a position Bakura was getting used to because it allowed them to stay close without putting too much pressure on Marik’s back.  

 

The _something_ of which Marik had referred to came in the form of a massage. Bakura woke up and noticed Marik had shifted in the night to lay on his stomach. His brow was furrowed but not in passion or orgasm like Bakura was used to; it was the look Marik had when his back bothered him. He hated sleeping. Not only did he leave the lights on, but often only slept 3-4 hours at a time, taking naps around midday to offset the missing sleep. Laying down for 8 hours at a time was simply too much for him, and checking the clock, Bakura realized they’d slept through the night, both exhausted from a combination of what had been a busy day and a delightfully busy night.

 

Bakura straddled himself over Marik’s ass. Most of the lavender oil had been absorbed into Mairk’s skin throughout the night, but the constant applications left Marik’s skin soft enough that Bakura could grab and knead Marik’s muscles without hurting Marik. He started at Marik’s shoulders and worked his way down, taking his time with each, independent centimeter of skin. The concerned look on Marik’s face faded, replaced with a slight upturn of his lips. Marik sighed in his sleep.

 

When Bakura finished, he touched Marik’s hair, kissed the side of his face, and then snuck home. He took a shower, caught up on some work, and paced the house like a ghost stuck in a certain route. The only thing that broke his foolishness was a text from Ryou.

 

_LAN party tonight?_

 

_Sure_

 

_Bring snacks_

 

Bakura was grateful to have a Marik-free night. When they had first hooked up at Yugi’s a few weeks ago he hadn’t been able to think, but now he was starting to think too much and it was jarring. He needed a distraction, and gaming was his favorite way to cope with stress. Bakura went to the store and loaded up on junk food before going home and getting his computer tower to take to Ryou’s, opting to take a cab so he didn’t have to lug both the bags and the case.

 

He had his own key so he let himself in and started setting his computer up, stealing one of Ryou’s extra monitors. A hint of shadowy movement caught the corner of his eye and he noticed Ryou padding down the hallway with bare feet. He wore wrinkled pajama bottoms and a old Zelda t-shirt. His hair was moppish and Bakura noticed that the older Ryou got, the more pronounced his own spikes were.

 

“Hey Bakura.” Ryou rubbed a fist into one of his eyes to clear away the grit. The tale-tell circles beneath Ryou’s eyes told Bakura he’d been up all night.

 

“You look like hell. Do you _ever_ sleep?”

 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Ryou shrugged. “You should have seen our campaign last night. It was great. Yugi’s character died, and I seduced Anubis in order to get his soul back from the Duat, and during our boss battle, Mai rolled three super crits in a row! It was one of the most amazing gaming nights we’d ever had.”

 

“You need to stop playing as me,” Bakura grumbled, doing a quick temp check on his system.

 

“But it’s so fun playing as the Thief King. He’s hardened from a tough life, but secretly has a heart of gold.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Speaking of gold, I donated all his treasure to orphans last night. It was the right thing to do.”

 

“Tch, you know what? As long as the Pharaoh doesn’t get that gold, the orphans can have it. The Thief King would know how to steal more if he needed treasure.”

 

Ryou giggled. “You secretly gave orphans treasure, didn’t you?”

 

“I am an orphan. That technically means all the stolen treasure went towards the benefit of at least one orphan.”

 

“Oh good, you brought snacks!” Ryou forgot about orphans when he saw the bags of junk food. He leaned over Bakura and started pushing aside the saltier snacks until he found a package of mochi.

 

Bakura yanked it from his hand.

 

“Hey! That’s mean.” Ryou scowled at Bakura.

 

“You damn dumpster diving racoon, eat some real damn food.” Bakura found a bento package that he’d specifically bought for Ryou and pushed it against Ryou’s chest.

 

“I don’t like real food.” Ryou pouted.  

 

“Too fucking bad. You’re going to eat it or I’m going to cram it down your throat.”

 

Knocking on the door interrupted them and Ryou turned to answer it. Yugi came in with a full sized tower that was almost as big as him.

 

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

 

“Yugi.” Ryou rested his head on Yugi’s shoulder after he'd set the tower down. “Tell Bakura to share his snacks.”

 

“No! Tell Ryou to eat _real food_.”

 

“Sorry, Ryou.” Yugi laughed as he grabbed another spare monitor- Ryou owned five of the damn things. “You know when Mom-kura is serious I can’t do anything to help you.”

 

Bakura slammed his fists on top of the desk. “Call me that again and I will go to Egypt just to slam your severed head at the doorway of the Pharaoh’s tomb!”

 

“What snacks did you bring?” Yugi did the same thing Ryou had, leaning over Bakura as if he were furniture in order to raid the snacks.

 

Bakura rolled his eyes. His death threats didn’t carry the same weight as they once had. Perhaps if he murdered one of them and displayed the corpse as an example to the rest he’d get some proper respect again, and as soon as he could decide between Honda and Jonouchi he was going to do it.

 

They played Neverwinter Nights and reduced the snacks to empty foil bags and cardboard boxes. Bakura started rubbing his eyes, it was past 2 a.m. and he was on his second energy drink.

 

“Have either of you ever tried sounding?” Bakura asked, out of the blue, and surprised himself when he heard his own words.

 

Ryou groaned and Yugi laughed. Both paused their games.

 

“That bad?” Bakura glanced over his shoulder towards Ryou.

 

“No, it’s neat, but I can’t look.” Ryou closed his eyes and shook his head. “I _have_ to wear a blindfold.”

 

Bakura thought about sex with a blindfold and dismissed it a moment later. He wanted to stare at Marik’s face as much as possible, and anything that inhibited that was a waste of his time.

 

“Here’s what you need to know," Yugi said. "Use proper sounds- never ever EVER use something you find around the house- and use high quality lube- lots of it- and keep everything clean.”

 

“I didn’t say I was going to do it!” Bakura stared at his game screen, unable to look at either Ryou or Yugi. “I just saw it in a porno, so I was asking.”

 

“Okay.” Yugi made a sympathetic, and disbelieving, noise. “Well, if you and Marik see anything else you want to try and have questions you can always text me.”

 

“Don’t bring Marik into this. Who said I wanted to try anything with Marik?”

 

“Oh Bakura.” Ryou sighed. “You’re three thousand years old. Be more mature.”

 

“I am mature. Fuck you. I was just … a little curious. That doesn’t mean I was going to try it.”

 

“It’s really an indescribable feeling that needs to be experienced if you want to know what it feels like,” Yugi said, calm and informatory. “It’s sort of like … well, sort of like getting fingered, but inside your penis instead of your butt.”

 

“You just said penis instead of dick. I can’t take your sex advice seriously.”  

 

“Yeah, Yugi, what do you know about sex? Nice people that don’t curse or use foul language all the time are clearly virgins.” Ryou winked.  

 

“Sex? Oh my goodness.” Yugi blinked with eyes so innocent, that Bakura would think he was actually astonished (if he didn’t know better). “When Bakura said sounding, I thought he was referring to measuring the depths of large bodies of water.”

 

“No, no, Yugi dear, not that kind of sounding. He meant cock-stuffing.”

 

“Cock-stuffing? What’s that, Ryou?”

 

“Well, it’s when you-” Ryou got up to whisper in Yugi’s ear. Yugi gasped, feigning horror. Ryou pulled back. “And then you-” Ryou went back to whispering.  

 

“Pre-cum everywhere you say? Dripping all the way down the bulging shaft? How ghastly. No, sorry, Bakura. I wouldn’t know anything about that sort of thing. I’m pure as the new fallen snow.”

 

“I’m sorry I even asked.” Bakura started going through his spells as an excuse to bring the conversation back to gaming.

 

They played another hour before calling it quits. Yugi slept on the couch and Bakura took a bean bag chair and curled up on it like a cat. In the morning Ryou made breakfast, teasing Bakura about real food, and then Bakura took a cab home.

 

And tried not to think.

 

Especially about Marik.

 

But his brain didn’t want to think about anything else. He watched their video two times in a row, and sprawled onto the couch to stare at the ceiling and thought about Marik despite his continuous demands that he think of anything else.

 

He gave up and grabbed his cellphone.

 

_I still don’t believe you stick metal up your pee-hole_

 

Bakura could almost hear the sardonic tone in Marik’s voice when he replied.

 

_Hello, Bakura. How are you? How was your day? Me? I’m good. Thank you for asking._

 

_Small talk is an awful way to start a conversation_

 

_Yes, much better to go straight to jerking off. Very well, tell me, how do you like to get off when I’m not around, Bakura?_

 

_The traditional way_

 

_Hmmm, couldn’t you be a little more specific? After all, this *is* the conversation you chose to have._

 

Bakura scowled at the phone, still reading the texts in Marik’s voice. Now he could see the haughty smirk on Marik’s face and the way his eyes flashed as brightly as the gold he always wore. The thought of Marik looking smug and being argumentative made Bakura … shiver. He was pissed off that they didn’t live closer. He’d probably stop by and argue in person if they did.

 

Bakura had never put any thought into masturbation. He’d hardly done it in Egypt- too revenge driven to enjoy himself even for a few minutes. He shoved his hand down his pants and toyed with his cock. Once it was hard enough to poke to the top of his sweat pants, Bakura started rolling his thumb around the head. He shivered again, wishing that Marik were between his legs with a wide-open, waiting mouth.

 

“Dammit,” Bakura swore when he realized that his fantasies had been heavily Marik-centric as of late.

 

_I guess I’m boring_

 

_Took you long enough to answer. Are you doing it right now?_

 

Bakura grunted. He felt caught, but he supposed there was nothing to do but be up front about it.

 

_Maybe_

 

Marik responded only a second later.

 

_Send me a picture_

 

Bakura’s cheeks flared up at the last message. The thought of Marik wanting to see him made his cock go from hard-enough to stone-hard-pillar. He squirmed out of his shirt, and kicked off his sweatpants, and cursed at the phone as he struggled to hold it up at an angle that would catch his cock and face at the same time. Instead of a photo, Bakura shot a minute long video and sent that. He continued to stroke himself while he waited for a response, too turned on at this point to stop.

 

_Yes, your technique is a little mundane_

 

_And yet I’m somehow riveted_

 

_You should send a full video_

 

Bakura scratched his head. Was he really going to do this? He realized he was, because Marik asked him to and he had a bad habit of simply going along with whatever random plan Marik came up with.

 

_Do I get a video in return?_

 

_Oh, I’m afraid you’re too late. I’m spent, but perhaps in the future I could give you a live show to compensate?_

 

The thought of a “live show” had Bakura’s cock twitching in his hand. He sent Marik a _brb_ and ran to his bedroom. It took him a moment to set up an impromptu stand for his phone, but soon he had video recording as he knelt on his bed and continued to knead himself. Bakura tried to make it interesting. His ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair and then twisted his own nipple until it was angry and red.

 

He was fully into the act at this point, tugging hard and fast at his cock and hitching a little into his own grip. Bakura whimpered. It wasn’t a noise he’d usually make while jerking it, but knowing that Marik “watched” him made his body feel sensitive, as if Marik’s theoretical gaze was a touch in and of itself.

 

He moaned and toppled over on one forearm. He pressed his forehead against the blanket below as he finished himself off with the quickest strokes he could manage. When it was all over he looked up and gave the little red light on his phone a wicked, lustful smirk, as if challenging Marik to come over and do better.

 

Which must have worked, because the next day, he opened the door after hearing a knock only to find Marik staring at him. The former tomb-keeper pushed Bakura back into the apartment, dragged him to the couch, and sucked his cock until Bakura was delirious with orgasm. After Bakura returned the favor they’d spent the rest of the night eating take-out and watching TV.

 

It became habitual, Marik showing up at his apartment with cartons of take-out food and a look in his eye caused by a different sort of hunger. Weeks passed by and one morning Bakura stood in his bathroom, brushing his teeth, and he couldn’t stop staring at the extra toothbrush in the holder. He turned towards the shower and noted that all his shampoo and bodywash brands were different now, more expensive, and there was even a proper bath mat below his feet instead of an old towel. The door knocked and Bakura spat, and rinsed his mouth, and dried his hands with a towel before getting the door.

 

He knew it’d be Marik. They were going to ride out of town on Marik’s motorcycle and be stranded out in godsforsaken, wifi-less countryside because for some reason Marik got off on that sort of thing. But, despite knowing it’d be Marik at the door, Bakura was caught off guard when Marik slammed him against the wall and kissed him as if it’d been years instead of two days since they last saw each other.

 

Bakura sighed and reached out to cup Marik’s face. The hard, eager kisses evaporated to softer, slower brushes of their lips, and Bakura forgot that they were supposed to be doing something else other than stand next to the door and makeout until Marik finally pulled away.

 

“I want to show you something before we go.”

 

“Okay?”

 

Marik tugged his tank-top over his head and turned away from Bakura. At first the mere sight of Marik’s back shocked Bakura. He’d seen it enough times and still anointed it with lavender and tea-tree oil if they were going to do any heavy fooling around, but it was different to have Marik out-right _show_ his back for the sake of it.

 

Bakura leaned closer, noticing that many of the scars were white and flaky around the edges. Bakura reached out, very careful as he touched Marik’s back.

 

“Did something happen? Do you need a doctor? Or-”

 

“Some of the dead skin is sloughing off!” Marik said it in such an excited voice that Bakura hardly registered it as _Marik’s_ voice. “Look at the wing tips!”

 

Bakura did. He blinked and narrowed his eyes for a closer look.

 

“Are the scars … a little smaller?”

 

“Yes!”

 

Marik started to laugh. He spun around and shoved Bakura back against the wall to attack his mouth with another blitz of kisses. Bakura found himself smiling. He’d never seen Marik so damn _happy_ before. Not even at the end of Battle City when Bakura watched from the Ring (in the Pharaoh’s filthy hands no less) as Marik left with his siblings to try and reclaim their lives.

 

“How?” Bakura asked as soon as he was able to free his lips from Marik’s.

 

“It’s your stupid oil!” Marik grabbed Bakura’s shoulders and gave him a light shake. “My back hasn’t felt this good since before my initiation. It itches only half as much, and some of the damage around the edges is _actually healing_. I know it’s not a magical serum that’ll fix them, but-”  Marik sniffled. He braced himself against Bakura’s chest and leaned his weight against Bakura’s body. “The fact that they’re even getting a little better-”

 

His control broke at that moment, and his tears were hot against Bakura’s neck as he cried. Bakura himself felt lightheaded from feeling Marik crumple into his arms. He squeezed Marik as tight as he could, and kissed the crown of Marik’s head, and waited for the fit to pass because he understood that the tears were happy. Nevertheless, Bakura felt extra protective of Marik as Marik curled, vulnerable and sincere, against him.

 

“Marik?”

 

“I’m fine!”

 

“Move in with me.”

 

“What?” Marik looked up, blinking away his tears and sniffing.

 

“Move in with me.” Bakura looked away. “My apartment is already cluttered with your junk anyway. Might as well get it over with and move in.”

 

“Really? You don’t think we’ll fight all the time?” Marik dried his eyes on Bakura’s shirt before slipping back into his own.

 

“Eh, maybe.” Bakura’s lips peeled back into a smile. His heart was beating hard in his chest, and he struggled not to kiss Marik again. “Let’s do it anyway. I- I could put the oil on every night. Like you said, it’s not magic, but … I don’t know, maybe it’d help more if we applied it more.”

 

“Okay.” Marik leaned in and pressed kisses into the skin of Bakura’s throat. “Why not? I’m not going to turn down back rubs every night, and …” Marik looked up again, staring into Bakura’s teak-colored eyes. “I miss you on the nights we’re separated.”

 

Bakura gave a little grunt- his version of agreeing.

 

“Are you ready?” Marik snorted, knowing he wouldn’t get any words out of Bakura when it came to how he felt. “I want to get out of the city for awhile.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You own too much crap.” Bakura groaned as he set the last cardboard box on top of a stack. 

 

One of the conditions of Marik moving in was that he bring his furniture with him. Bakura, having picked up all his belongings at thrift shops, had no emotional attachment to his things and, therefore, had no problem sending them back to the depths of second-hand hell to wait for a new victim to purchase them. However, Marik owned a lot of heavy things and Bakura’s shoulders were screaming. 

 

“Perhaps I own a lot of stuff, but none of it is crap- unlike the garbage you owned that we had to clear out of here before moving my stuff in.” 

 

“I have my priorities. Everything in the computer is high end.” 

 

“I think this is the last one guys.” Yugi walked in with one last box.

 

“Thanks for helping,” Marik said.

 

“No problem! Everyone is waiting downstairs to go eat. Want to come with us?” 

 

“Sure.” Marik nodded.

 

“Marik's treat, since you guys helped us move all his  _ crap _ in here.” Bakura smirked.

 

Marik glared at him.

 

“Don't worry, Marik. Nobody expects you to-”

 

“My stuff is  _ not crap _ !” Marik shouted at Bakura, ignoring Yugi and the bill.

 

“You two haven't even unpacked yet. Are you going to start already?” 

 

“Oh, we've never stopped.” Bakura winked at Marik.

 

“Whatever, let's go.” Marik rolled his eyes as he headed for the door. “And don't worry about the bill.  _ That _ part was one of Bakura's  _ only _ good ideas.” 

 

“Unlike my really terrible idea of asking you to move in with me.” Bakura snorted, locking the door behind him.

 

Since Marik wanted to buy, everyone insisted that he chose the restaurant. Bakura frowned when Marik suggested a ritzy steakhouse on the main strip. He grabbed his phone and sent Marik a text (so he could argue without the others butting in). 

 

_ You won’t eat anything there.  _

 

_ Yeah, but everyone else likes that kind of food. I’ll eat a salad.  _

 

_ Fuck everyone else. Go somewhere with food you like! _

 

_ Oh just shut up and eat the steak. You love steak. _

 

“I want ramen,” Bakura said out loud, impatient with swyping on his phone. 

 

“Oh that sounds good.” Ryou nodded. 

 

“I know a great place two blocks from here!” Jonouchi started walking like it was already decided. 

 

“Don’t you guys want something nicer?” Marik frowned. “Ramen’s so … common.” 

 

“Then it’s perfect for Jonouchi.” Honda laughed. 

 

“Hey, I don’t see you living in a mansion next to Kaiba!” 

 

They overran the ramen shop; Honda, Jonouchi, Mai, Ryou, Yugi, Marik, and Bakura. Anzu still studied abroad and everyone else had better things to do on a Friday night.

 

Bakura looked around the table as Ryou poured sake for everyone. The former dark spirit realized, with an uneasy stomach, that this was The Group now, and that he and Marik were a part of it. And maybe he would have stormed away to separate himself from it all, but he was too busy watching Marik laugh as the others taught him the proper way to slurp noodles. 

 

After they ate and Marik settled the bill, they all went their separate ways. 

 

“See? Peasants know how to eat well enough.” Bakura snorted as they walked side by side.  

 

“Don’t give me a hard time when I was trying to pick out food  _ you _ would like.” 

 

“I know you were.” Bakura snuck a quick kiss to the side of Marik’s head and then continued to walk as if it had never happened. 

 

Marik held his head where Bakura had kissed. “Gee, you only had two cups of sake. You shouldn’t be that drunk.” 

 

“Tch. Fuck off, Marik.” 

 

He was hardly buzzed, but probably a little in love. He kept stealing glances of Marik in the street light as they walked the last block to  _ their _ apartment. The glances he caught from each stolen look were worth more than any treasure he'd ever swiped from a dead king. More than once he stole a look at Marik, only to find burning lavender eyes looking back at him, so it was no surprise that the moment their apartment door shut behind them, Marik had Bakura pinned against the wall. 

 

He went straight for Bakura’s throat, sucking and biting until Bakura’s knees couldn’t support him and he had to brace all of his weight against the wall and cling to Marik to stay upright. 

 

“Want a backrub?” Bakura asked. He wanted his hands on Marik. He wanted to touch every bit of flesh he could reach. 

 

Marik answered by pulling his shirt off and walking to the bedroom. Bakura followed him. The bed was only a mattress on the floor. They’d have to assemble it in the morning, but for the time being, neither cared. 

 

Marik covered the bed in royal purple-colored silk while Bakura retrieved both the massage oil and the lube and set them on the bed so that they’d be easy to reach. As Marik slipped out of his pants, Bakura pulled off his own clothing. He straddled Marik’s bare ass- his own cock growing hard just from the skin-to-skin contact- and poured oil into his hands. 

 

As soon as the oil was warmed, Bakura started anointing Marik’s back. He smeared the oil liberally across Marik’s skin and rubbed it in with his fingers until most of the excess absorbed into Marik’s skin. The entire time Marik moaned and clenched the bedsheets below them.  

 

“Want to switch?” Marik asked in a breathless voice. 

 

“I don’t have any scars on my back,” Bakura said. 

 

“I’ve noticed,” Marik said in a sardonic tone. “But you did move my stuff upstairs today. It’s only fair I return the favor tonight.” 

 

“Yeah, I guess my shoulders are stiff. Why not?” 

 

Bakura traded places with Marik. It was odd, the thought of  _ receiving  _ a back rub had never entered his mind. Any time he’d ever been tired, sore, even injured in his life, Bakura had learned to grunt and endure it. He supposed Marik was the same; that’s why he had never thought to treat his own scars before Bakura did it.

 

Marik’s hands were warm, almost hot, against Bakura’s back and he found himself gasping the moment Marik touched him. As Marik worked his hands down Bakura’s spine, Bakura realized why Marik always grabbed the sheets, and moaned, and arched into Bakura’s touch.  _ It was good _ . The massage was relaxing every muscle in Bakura’s body and Marik’s body heat was soaking into Bakura’s back. 

 

It was also arousing. Marik’s weight was on his ass. Bakura had already been hard from touching Marik, and now that his boner rubbed against the silk sheets Bakura couldn’t help but press himself a little deeper into the sensation. Marik’s hands were all over Bakura’s body, neck, shoulders, tailbone. A moan escaped Bakura’s mouth. 

 

Unless they were already in the middle of sex, he hated asking Marik to touch him. He already felt too needy, too vulnerable, when he asked, but the way Marik was touching him and pressing his cock against the sheets as he moved had Bakura close to  _ begging _ for it instead of just asking. 

 

Marik pulled away and Bakura panted against the pillow below him. He was hoping Marik was done. That way, he could suck Marik off and get a blow job in return without having to ask-  _ quid pro quo _ \- but he heard the click of a plastic cap which meant Marik was only pausing to add more oil. Bakura sighed, wondering how much longer he could hold out. 

 

Then a slick finger poked into his asshole. It’d been so wanted and yet so unexpected that Bakura groaned into the pillow. He spread his legs wider, and Marik added a second finger. 

 

“Should I flip over?” Bakura asked, voice husky. 

 

“This is fine,” Marik answered. 

 

Bakura wanted to argue that Marik couldn’t stroke him if he was on his stomach, but Marik was an eternal tease in the bedroom, and Bakura figured Marik wouldn’t let him flip over until he was utterly desperate and begging after all.

 

Bakura knew it wouldn’t take long. 

 

As Marik continued to milk Bakura’s prostate, Bakura continued to groan, unable to catch his breath, drooling into the silk pillowcase because he could barely breathe let alone swallow. 

 

Then he felt the tip of Marik’s cock lineup with his entrance. 

 

“Marik? Your back.” 

 

“My back feels great. Remember?” Marik nipped the crown of Bakura’s earlobe and then shoved in. 

 

Bakura called out. He nails dug hard into the mattress and he trembled from both the shock of being penetrated, and the pleasurable fullness that came with Marik’s cock being inside him. 

 

“ _ Aaah, gods _ !” Marik hissed the moment he was inside. “I forgot how fucking tight you are. It’s amazing.” 

 

“Hurry up, I want to be fucked,” Bakura growled, turned on and impatient from Marik’s words and the lost, euphoric way he moaned them. 

 

“Hmmm, no.” Marik slipped out halfway. “Let’s savor this moment. It’s been awhile since we’ve done it like this.” 

 

Marik eased back in, making them both gasp at the friction that overwhelmed them. He stayed slow, only halfway withdrawing before sheathing himself into Bakura’s body. Bakura knew Marik would drag the moment on until Bakura was begging for it like a bitch, but he had other plans. Bakura raised himself up on his forearms, lifting his ass higher into the air so Marik could get a better angle. As Marik eased in, Bakura shoved backward, squeezing his ass as he did it to make sure he was extra tight around Marik’s girth.  

 

“Fucking dammit, Bakura!” Marik cried out as his nails sank into Bakura’s hips. 

 

“Like that?” Bakura asked as he did it again. 

 

Marik couldn’t help himself. He started pulling out a little more and sinking in a little faster. They both started grunting between breaths, already sweating and winded. 

 

“Yes,” Marik confessed, smacking Bakura’s ass. “But this won’t last long enough if you keep it up.” 

 

“Then we’ll do it again tomorrow.” Bakura purred at the thought. “And the next day, and the next.” 

 

Marik started ramming at a quick pace, unable to hold back any longer. Bakura continued to shove back, but he couldn’t match Marik’s speed and had to settle for every other thrust. Still, they both moaned each time their bodies smacked together. 

 

“M-Marik.” Bakura squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

Since all he could see in that position was the pillows instead of Marik, Bakura concentrated on the  _ feeling _ of Marik inside him. Each time Marik thrust forward, Bakura felt like he was falling off the edge of the world and plummeting, gut looping and heartbeat panicking. 

 

“Pull my hair!” Bakura demanded just as he had the first time. 

 

And, just as he had the first time, Marik obeyed without question. Bakura licked his lips, relishing the feeling of Marik tugging at his mane of white while fucking him senseless. Bakura reached between his legs, not wanting Marik to let go of his hair, and stroked himself. 

 

“That’s right,” Marik growled. “Touch yourself.”

 

A formless, aroused cry was the only response Bakura could give as he skyrocketed himself to orgasm with each flick of his wrist. 

 

“Bakura, hurry. I’m going to come.”

 

Hearing the seriousness in Marik’s voice made a shiver hum through Bakura’s nerves. He listened to Marik grunt, and knowing Marik was close pushed Bakura over the top. He whined, and came, and he was still calling out when Marik joined him. Their voices cut out at the same time, and they eased themselves down onto their sides so that they could look at each other. 

 

“I could have made that last  _ much _ longer,” Marik scolded. “If you hadn’t interfered.” 

 

“I wouldn’t have survived.” Bakura closed his eyes and inched a little closer. “How’s your back?” 

 

“It might be a little sore in the morning, but nothing like the first time.” Marik kissed Bakura’s forehead. “It was worth it to hear your scream like you’d die without me inside you.” 

 

“If I remember correctly, you were screaming like you’d die without being inside me.”

 

“Yes, who would have guessed that someone as cold and heartless as you would be so damn warm inside?” 

 

They both laughed at that, still high off of lovemaking. Marik threaded his arms around Bakura, pulling him against Marik’s chest, and in the morning a hot shower and quick reapplication of oil was all Marik needed to dismiss any twinges he felt in his back. 

 

The next day they sat on the couch and watched a movie. When they reached the love scene, Bakura smirked and lay down so that his head was in Marik’s lap and he was looking up at him. 

 

“You know, we need another video. I have the first one mesmerized at this point.” 

 

“I still owe you a private show, don’t I?” 

 

“That’s right, you do.” Bakura’s dark mahogany eyes gleamed at the thought. “Are you going to let me film it?”

 

“If you like.” Marik hummed. 

 

“No time like the present.” Bakura sat up, grabbed the remote, and clicked the TV off. 

 

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”

 

Bakura licked his lips as he followed Marik, eager to watch Marik pleasure himself. He used the camera from his laptop and grabbed his phone as Marik undressed. Bakura looked at his phone screen to make sure Marik was in frame, but dropped his hand as soon as he saw the box Marik held.

 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

 

“I told you I use them on myself,” Marik said. “You don’t think I’m going to stop just because you’re afraid, do you?”

 

“I’m not afraid!”

 

“Oh? Squeamish then?”

 

“N-no.” Bakura brought his phone back up, trying to distract himself with busy work. 

 

“You’re blushing.” 

 

“No I’m not. It’s hot in here.” 

 

“You’re in trouble then because it’s about to get much hotter.” Marik flipped the box lid up with his thumbs. 

 

Bakura was glad he got the action with the camera, but his stomach clenched. He was more concerned about liking what he saw than anything else. If he was noticeably aroused by watching Marik- Marik would notice and insist Bakura try it himself. 

 

Marik propped extra pillows against the headboard. They’d set up the bed earlier. He crawled into the center and set the box down. He looked at Bakura. 

 

“Well?”

 

“I’m recording.”

 

“I need a fluffer.”

 

Bakura grinned. He propped the phone against a lamp on the dresser, and went to the bed. He started at Marik’s nipples, lapping at them until they poked out from his chest. Then he meandered downward until he reached Marik’s cock. 

 

It was already growing from Bakura’s licks, but he took it full into his mouth and sucked until Marik was rock hard.

 

He pulled back and looked up at Marik who ran a fingertip across Bakura’s bottom lip.

 

“I’m definitely ready now.”

 

Bakura went back to fetch his phone. He wanted a close up of Marik before he started.

 

Marik wiped his tip with a wet-wipe. He took the medium sound out of the box and poured a significant amount of lube on both himself and the metal rod. 

 

Bakura realized he was holding his breath, anticipating Marik’s reaction. Bakura was a little disappointed when Marik eased the sound down his cock with only a slight hitch of breath.

 

“I thought you used the big one,” Bakura mocked, but he had to concentrate to keep his voice steady.

 

Marik's gaze flicked in his direction. “You seemed so nervous that I decided to go slow.” 

 

“I'm not nervous. You're the one fucking your own dick with a metal stick. This has absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

 

“We'll see,” Marik sang as he eased the sound up halfway and then back down.

 

Marik kept a tight grip on the lower half of his cock to keep it steady. The other hand drove the sound up and down. After a moment of up and down movement, Marik let the sound sink low into his dick and he stroked himself with the sound inserted deep inside his cock.

 

Bakura couldn't deny that he liked watching Marik with his hard shaft in hand and stroking himself. Marik’s eyes focused on his ministrations, but every once in awhile he'd give Bakura a knowing, sultry glance. 

 

Marik returned to easing the sound in and out, after a few rounds of stuffing and stroking, Marik pulled the sound all the way out.

 

“Ready for the big one?” Marik winked at the camera. 

 

“I don't care what you do,” Bakura grumbled.

 

He refused to admit that his own cock was starting to swell. How could he help it? Marik was a sex god, and his body was naked and on display for Bakura to enjoy, and his dick was huge and hard and the sound made it stand tall and straight.

 

Again, Marik added more lube, now to the thickest of the rods in his box. He was a little more ginger with inserting the fatter sound, but once it started to glide down, Marik let gravity take care of the rest. 

 

Bakura watched in fascination. His original apprehension fading as Marik fucked himself with the gleaming stainless steel. Curiosity was fast replacing Bakura's revulsion. Marik was panting now. He stroked himself a little faster and all the way up and down his length instead of just the lower half. 

 

Marik's brow wrinkled and Bakura knew that meant he was close. He stepped all the way to the bed, wanting to catch the come shot on his phone. Precome was already dripping down Marik's shaft. 

 

Marik whimpered. Hearing him sent a jolt through Bakura's body. A rush of come spilled down Marik's shaft even as he pulled the sound out. Marik closed his eyes and squeezed his shaft as a second wave of semen poured out. 

 

When Marik was spent, Bakura turned off his phone and lay beside him. Marik glanced at him with a sleepy expression.

 

“W-what does it feel like?” Bakura asked.

 

“Good?” Marik murmured, as if he wasn't quite there. “That's why I wanted to do it to you. To be inside you, that intimately, controlling how deep it goes, how fast, until you succumb in a way you never have before…” Marik grinned.

 

He crawled on top of Bakura and tugged Bakura's clothes away. Marik palmed Bakura's erection. Bakura's breath hitched and he shuddered beneath Marik's touch.

 

“I love watching you unravel. I love hearing you lose control.” Marik rubbed a little faster. “ _ Nothing  _ turns me on more than seeing  _ you _ turned on.  _ Nothing _ gives me greater pleasure than making you  _ beg me for more _ .” 

 

“Marik,” Bakura gasped. At that moment he do anything, everything, as long as Marik kept touching.

 

“So tell me to suck you off and I will suck until you're coming down my throat. Tell me to eat you out and I'll have you coming with my tongue crammed in your ass as deep as it'll go. Tell me to finger fuck you, and I will toy with your prostate until your voice is raw from calling out my name.”

 

Marik pulled his hand away and Bakura whined at the loss of Marik's touch.

 

“Tell me what you want Bakura, and then trust me to give you exactly what you need.”

 

Bakura was gasping already. Marik's speech had him out of his mind with desire and he couldn't think straight. He bit his lower lip.

 

“Bakura.” 

 

“How do I let you talk me into these things?”

 

Marik grinned. He knew he'd won and he set the used sounds to the side before grabbing the lube.

 

“Lay down and get comfortable. Relax.”

 

“How can I relax when you're going to shove a rod up my cock?” Bakura whined.

 

Marik chuckled. “If you were anyone else I'd think you didn't want it.” 

 

Bakura eased back into the pillows. He hissed when Marik gave his tip a quick kiss. 

 

“You're going to use the thin one, right? You're not going to use one of the freak ones on me?” 

 

“Bakura, I told you to relax.” Marik displayed the thinnest sound to ease Bakura's mind. “Let's start with a blow job.” 

 

“No, I want to get this over with.” Bakura kept looking away, but his head always went right back to the little sound in Marik's hand.

 

“You started me off. I wouldn't feel right if I didn't repay you.” 

 

Bakura rolled his eyes, knowing Marik would do whatever he wanted. He couldn't help but flinch when Marik's mouth wrapped around him. Bakura's nerves were thrumming with a mix of dread and anticipation, and any touch was almost too much.

 

But Marik's mouth was warm and wet, and his tongue rolled back and forth against Bakura's tip. He found himself relaxing and hitching deeper into Marik's mouth. He forgot all about the sound, losing himself to the moment.

 

“This is good,” Bakura whispered, eyes rolling up in ecstasy. 

 

Marik sucked until Bakura climbed to the very edge of orgasm and then pulled back with a smack of his lips. Bakura groaned, needy and desperate. Marik kissed Bakura's cock-head, teasing Bakura.

 

He ran the side of the sound up and down Bakura's shaft, introducing him to the feel of steel against his skin. Marik dropped back down, sucking the top of Bakura’s cock while continuing to guide the sound up and down Bakura’s shaft. Marik pulled back a second time and allowed the rounded tip of the sound to tease the slit of Bakura’s cockhead. 

 

An expectant groan escaped Bakura’s mouth. He swallowed it and held his breath, but Marik removed the sound and dropped his mouth back down over his cock. 

 

“Marik!” Bakura growled. “Get on with it!”

 

“I will when you’re relaxed.”

 

“That’s not going to happen, so hurry up.”  

 

“It better happen or I’ll be here edging you all night long.”

 

“How is  _ that _ suppose to relax me?” 

 

Marik shrugged and gave Bakura a smug look, as if to tell Bakura it wasn’t his problem. He dropped lower and teased Bakura’s balls with his tongue. Bakura groaned again, but this time it was softer, more at ease, and when Marik went back to the blow job he went deep, allowing Bakura’s cock to hit the back of Marik’s throat. 

 

Again, Bakura forgot about the sound as Marik brought him to the brink. Bakura heard the cap of the lube click open, but only registered it as a sound without thinking of what Marik would do with it. Then, in a swift series of motions, Marik coated the sound and Bakura’s swollen, blushing tip with lube and aligned the sound right above Bakura’s hole. 

 

He held his breath again, feeling his chest tighten and his fists clench. He waited for a shock of pain, but what he felt was Marik’s warm palm kneading against his balls. Bakura blew out his held breath, still on edge at the narrow flash of cold metal touching his tip, but Marik’s massaging distracted him enough that he could breathe. 

 

Then there was a … feeling. Intense. An intense feeling that made the breath stick into the back of Bakura’s throat. He almost felt like he was going to piss himself, but he’d experienced a similar oddness the first time they tried anal, so Bakura wasn’t too concerned. He worked up the courage to look and saw Marik easing the sound in an out only a few centimeters deep. 

 

Marik caught Bakura watching and he smiled, allowing the sound to drop down a few more centimeters and making Bakura moan again. He kept going, easing the sound into Bakura’s cock and then taking a moment to fuck Bakura with it before dropping it down a little more. By the time the sound was wholly swallowed by Bakura’s dick, Bakura was drenched in sweat. 

 

“You okay?” Marik asked.

 

Bakura grunted. 

 

“I can stop.” 

 

Bakura wanted to squirm, but didn’t dare. He didn’t want Marik to stop. In fact, he wanted to come. He was adjusting to the intense feeling inside him and wanted Marik to use that to drive him over the edge. 

 

“Bakura, answer me. Do you want me to-”

 

“Don’t stop,” Bakura snapped. 

 

Marik smirked as he grabbed Bakura’s cock and started running his hand up and down the shaft. Bakura tossed his head back, breathing hard and making weak, pathetic sounds of arousal. 

 

“M-Marik, I’m going to-”

 

“Not yet,” Marik warned, slowing down his hand and then removing it so he could go back to working the sound. 

 

Bakura growled, on the edge of ecstasy and unable to articulate. He glanced at his own cock. A bead of precome rolled down his tip. The shaft was gleaming with Marik’s spit and lube and precome, and seeing himself in such a state only served to make Bakura want to come even more than before. 

 

“I thought you might want to try a bigger one,” Marik said. 

 

“Yes!” Bakura shouted. “Anything! Just let me come, Marik.” 

 

“That’s the eagerness I wanted to hear.” Marik purred. 

 

He guided the thinnest sound out and took the one two sizes up from it. He added more lube and allowed the second sound to sink all the way down without teasing. Bakura groaned again. It was the same feeling, but grander. He was whimpering with each thrust of the sound. There was no helping it. He was close, and Marik had complete control of him, and he knew that he should  _ hate _ the sensation of helplessness that came with lack of control, but when it was  _ Marik  _ taking control, it somehow made every sensation richer and purer instead. 

 

Marik started stroking him. The sound was fully sheathed into Bakura’s cock. With his other hand, Marik caressed Bakura’s balls, and the stimulation to his balls, outer shaft, and inner cock had Bakura wailing. 

 

“Aaah! I’m!”

 

Marik let go of Bakura’s nuts in order to pull the sound out even as Bakura came. He wanted to watch, but his eyes slammed shut on their own as pleasure consumed both his body and mind. By the time he finished, Bakura couldn’t move. His body felt like dead weight all around him. Eyes still shut, he sensed rather than saw Marik shuffling around him to put everything away and go wash the sounds. 

 

A moment later Marik’s weight returned to the bed. Bakura felt doting, attentive kisses pressing across his chest, then up his throat, and settling along his jawline.

 

“Marik,” Bakura whispered. 

 

“You look out of it,” Marik said. 

 

“Hmm,” Bakura sighed.

 

“You forgot to turn off the recording feature on your laptop.”  

 

“You’re welcome,” Bakura joked. “I’m sure you’ll want to watch that again.”  

 

“Of course,” Marik said as if the entire night had been part of his master plan all along. “Are you going to take a shower? You’re  _ coated _ .” 

 

“I can’t move.”

 

Marik made an approving noise. “Was it that good?” 

 

“Can’t talk, either,” Bakura said to dodge the question. 

 

“Why can’t you ever admit to  _ liking _ anything? I swear to the gods, Bakura, you’re so difficult.” 

 

With that, Bakura did force his eyes open, so he could look at Marik as he spoke. He winked. 

 

“I like you.” 

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Marik turned away, looking flustered at the statement. 

 

Bakura pondered at what he was sure was a blush on Marik’s cheeks- although his complexion hid it almost too well to see. Bakura realized that he never even said  _ I like you _ before, let alone anything more serious. 

 

“So?” Bakura asked, casually, as if it were only a passing thought in his head. “Do you still think you’re falling in love?” 

 

“No.” Marik shook his head, slight smile on his face. “I’ve known for a while now.” 

 

“Yeah.” Bakura reached out, using the pad of his thumb to trace the shape of Marik’s bottom lip. “Me too.”   


End file.
